Torrid

by Nikki Sloane

  Luka sat on the same loveseat as he had this morning, only now he wore a new pair of jeans and simple evergreen colored t-shirt. He stood when I came into view, and his heavy, angry gaze was crushing.

  I stared at his feet and watched them approach. I didn’t fight him as he grasped the towel, pulled it away, and made a production of dropping it to the floor. My cheeks burned red. I wasn’t comfortable being naked in front of Avery, and even though this was just my breasts, it was far worse being exposed in front of Luka. I continued to watch his bare feet as he went to and retrieved the wadded dress shirt he’d ripped off of me earlier.

  “Put this on.”

  I took it in my trembling hands and hurried to slip my arms into the sleeves. When I went to do up one of the buttons that hadn’t popped off, his hands closed on mine.

  “It stays open.”

  And his hands remained clasping mine. When I tried to pull back, his grip went firm.

  “Your schedule,” he said.

  I swallowed back the cry in my throat, which was a terrible, painful lump, and finally met his gaze. I’d expected more anger, but there wasn’t any. His eyes were . . . vacant.

  Wait, no. Not vacant. Curious, perhaps. It gave him a clinical look, like he was studying me with unsure, scientific eyes. He let go and immediately moved to cradle my face in his hands.

  “All right. Let’s try a different approach,” he said softly.

  His gentle kiss was the harshest blow he could deliver. His lips sealed over mine, and tried to coerce my participation, but I went rigid under the power of his mouth. He shifted my head, positioning me to a better angle, and attempted the kiss once more. The longer I endured it, the more frantic he became. As if I had issued a challenge and he was determined to meet it.

  Why did it have to be like this? If I gave in, just a fraction of an inch, would I succumb to him as I did last night? With absolutely no effort on my part, the way he kissed me now was dangerous. The sick part of my mind, the one that I’d thought was only tequila-induced, whispered to me in my completely sober state. Give in a little. At this point, what does it matter? He only pushes you when you say no.

  The decision wasn’t made consciously; at least, I didn’t think it was. My lips parted minutely, and Luka answered ten-fold. His tongue claimed my mouth, and his thumbs moved, sweeping over my cheekbones. The intensity of the kiss flared and burned wildly hot. There was a loud intake of breath from him. A sound announcing Luka was pleased I was allowing this to happen.

  But it was all too much.

  Too wrong.

  “No,” I whispered, and jerked back. A single word, which clearly meant nothing to him.

  He paused, lingering close. “So I can get a response out of you after all.” His voice was low and uneven, though, which meant I could draw one from him as well. Was there any comfort in that?

  “I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “I promise.”

  His expression was resigned. “Even if I believed that, which I really don’t, I already told you. I can’t risk it.” He released me and stepped back, and his cold veneer was installed back in place. “I’m going to explain to you how I see this working. Sit down.”

  He didn’t tell me where, so I sat on the edge of the bed, clenching the dress shirt closed. Luka remained standing, and rested a hand on a hip while his other combed through his hair.

  “I’m going to set benchmarks for you,” he said. “Each one you pass earns you a new privilege. The first one is clothes. The next will be leaving this room.” His logical tone was free of emotion. “Eventually, we’ll have enough trust and you can leave the house.”

  Two thoughts stormed into my mind instantly. He’d let me leave? And . . .

  “Trust?” Short, inappropriate laughter burst from me, but then my tone went flat. “You must have a short memory. You just tried to kill me in the bathtub.”

  His eyes narrowed a degree. “No, I knew what I was doing. In fact, I’m trying very hard to avoid your death.”

  I was more confused and disoriented than I’d ever been in my life, and anxiety constricted my vocal cords. “What the hell does that mean?”

  His brow furrowed. “Focus. I’ve been up all night reading. Everything said training can take a long time, maybe even months, but I bet you can do it in under a week.”

  “Training?” My heart stumbled. “For what?”

  “Your behavior. I’m going to modify it to suit our arrangement.”

  Like last night, all I could do was parrot back his keywords. “Arrangement?”

  Before he could answer, his cellphone rang. Luka stared at the screen as if considering whether or not to answer. He wasn’t overly expressive, but it was clear he wasn’t happy about who was calling. He put his finger to his lips and gave me a dark glare, warning me to stay quiet, before tapping the screen and pressing it to his ear.

  “Hello?” he said, his tone gruff. He began to pace as the conversation began, and Luka looked visibly agitated. “It was . . . fine. I ran into a situation last night—” He finished a circuit of the room and his gaze froze on me. “No, actually, it had nothing to do with him.”

  It sounded like he was talking about Vasilije. Was this Luka’s father, and was I the situation?

  “It was just a miscommunication between me and a girl. It’s nothing. I’ve handled it.”

  I stared down at the dress shirt wrapped on my body, which had become damp from the ends of my hair dripping on it. This was handled? Assault and water torture were handled for Luka Markovic?

  “It’s not necessary,” he said quickly, and his expression flooded with exasperation. “Okay, fine.”

  He hung up, pocketed the phone, and I was struck by how much older he seemed. He was four, or maybe five years older than I was, physically. But mentally? I felt like we were far apart, and it was shocking. I wasn’t arrogant. I tried to stay humble, but the fact of the matter was I was smart. I was accustomed to being more mature than my peers, even the ones older than I was.

  Not Luka. The age gap for once felt like a real gap. As if his world was vastly different from mine.

  “First benchmark,” Luka said, his expression guarded. “I know you won’t like it, but understand it’s a means to an end. We build trust and then this whole thing can work.”

  “What are you—” My throat closed up as he bent over and retrieved something from the other side of the loveseat. The thick, multicolored cord was in a large loop, waiting to be unfurled.

  “There are two ways this can go,” he said, unraveling the rope. “They both end with you tied to the bed. One is easy. You lie down and let me do this. The other is unpleasant.”

  The dark cast to his face told me he wasn’t joking in the slightest. My gaze went to the wooden headboard. There were cutouts by the posts where it would be easy for him to tether me down, and I tensed. The thought activated my flight-or-fight response, and I glanced to the door. I’d never get past him.

  So I turned, sought his black eyes, and silently begged him not to, but it was a lost cause. Luka wasn’t going to be persuaded.

  “You can do this,” he urged. “You’re so fucking perfect, I know you can.”

  He wasn’t condescending, but sincere. His misplaced compliment knocked me sideways.

  “It’ll only be for a little while,” he added.

  I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and my fatigue made me weak. Inside I issued a sob of self-pity and loathing, but on the outside I stayed numb. Oh, holy hell, I was actually considering it.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I need to leave this room to get you new clothes.”

  He waited. If I obeyed, he promised there’d be no consequences. I moved hesitantly to lie down on the bed, resting my towel-dried hair on the pillow.

  Luka blinked, visibly surprised by what he was seeing. He’d expected a fight, but I felt broken. I gave up a little. And although I was going to allow it, my muscles solidified as he came cautiously closer. We each wat
ched the other with unease.

  Could he feel my trembling as I surrendered my first wrist to him? I pressed my lips together and forced back the tears that threatened in my eyes. His face went serious with concentration as he corded the rope around my wrist and tied the first knot.

  “Is it too tight?” he asked.

  I hurried to wipe a disobedient tear away with my free hand and struggled to keep it together. “It’s fine.”

  He hesitated for a sliver of a second, but then the moment was gone. The rope was threaded through the cutout by the post, and secured. A giant, invisible weight sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Again, Luka waited. He could take my free wrist easily now since my other was bound, but it was obvious he thought it was my responsibility to offer it. I did, feeling even more broken inside. I was ashamed to submit to him.

  The thick cord wasn’t rough, and he didn’t tie it too tightly, but being restrained was terrifying, and I stared up at him. He looked . . . fascinated. His gaze swept down along my body. As it slowly drifted back up again, his eyes were heated and he shifted on his feet. Was that excitement hiding in his expression?

  “Are you scared?” he asked.

  It was immediate from me. “Yes.”

  “Don’t be. Nothing bad is going to happen to you like this.”

  The naïve girl in me wanted to believe him, but I told myself I knew better. He’d turn on me any second and make me regret this foolish decision. I picked a point on the ceiling and focused on it, rather than him, so I could think about the situation. The goal was to build trust, he’d said. I would fake it enough until Luka allowed me to leave, or gave me an opportunity to escape.

  He’d told me he was going to get me new clothes, but he hovered at the side of the bed. “Christ, you’re something to look at, tied to a bed, wearing nothing but my shirt to cover your gorgeous body.” His appreciative tone was deep and rich. “We’re going to reach a point where you want this.”

  My eyes widened and I turned to him. Was he crazy? “Being tied up? Doubtful.”

  I couldn’t get away when he leaned over and cased my head in his hands, holding me still. There was a bizarre electric charge in the air. Him in complete control, me at his mercy.

  “I’m going to show you all sorts of things, like how much pleasure this body is capable of. But only,” he dropped his lips to mine in a seductive kiss, “when you submit.”

  There was a soft, unspoken threat laced beneath his words. Would he show me how much pain I could take if I fought instead?

  Luka stood up and stepped back from the bed, as if needing distance. “I’ll be back in a little while.” His mouth teased a half-smile. “Don’t go running off like last time.”

  I swung my head away from him and stared at the wall until I heard the door close behind him.

  I blew out an enormous breath, able to breathe now that he’d gone. The rope rubbed against my wrists. I struggled, checking to see if it would give, and when it didn’t . . . I did. I allowed myself to break apart and weep for a minute, before refocusing. There was no way I was going to cast aside my dream of becoming a surgeon. I’d overcome tough obstacles before. Hell, I flourished in the face of a challenge.

  You can do this. I wiped my face against my arm and dried my tears.

  It was Saturday afternoon, which meant I still had another day to figure this out before my Monday morning class. If I couldn’t get away from him before then, what would happen? Would Avery tell someone I’d gone missing when I didn’t come home tonight? Could I count on her to care, and not be thrilled her socially awkward roommate disappeared?

  My professors would notice my absence eventually, but how long would it be before one of them followed up? I didn’t check in much with my parents, either. They knew I was busy, and they were as well, so it was normal to go a week without talking. Emotion forced new tears, but this time it was disappointment in myself. I’d spent so much of my life being proud I was a self-sufficient island. Now I was filled with regret.

  No one would miss me.

  9

  LUKA WAS GONE a long time, much longer than I’d thought he’d be, and it put me in the awful position of hoping he’d come back. I was uncomfortable, thirsty, and I had an eyelash in my eye.

  So I used the time to think about what homework I would start first when I got back to my dorm room, and I ran through the checklist of the other odds and ends I wanted to take care of before Thanksgiving break. I didn’t want to think about what had happened in the last eighteen hours or my current situation. I had a secondary application for Michigan University’s medical school I still needed to finish, and an essay to polish for my dream school, Johns Hopkins. I’d already been accepted into Duke, but it was my second choice.

  Sounds of activity far off traveled down the hallway to me. Thumps, and heavy footsteps, and male voices. My pulse quickened. Did I scream for help, or would it incur Luka’s wrath? Before I could make a decision, the noises ceased.

  A little later, the door opened without a knock and Luka returned, carrying a black overnight bag and a bottle of water. He shut the door behind him, dropped the bag beside the loveseat, and set his gaze on me.

  I was thankful I’d stayed relatively calm, which kept the dress shirt covering my breasts.

  “That took longer than I thought it would,” he said. “Your roommate’s annoying and dumber than a box of rocks.”

  My stomach did a flip-flop. “What? You talked to Avery?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He set down the bottle, unzipped the bag, and pulled out clothes. What—? He held up the tan A-line dress trimmed with black that I’d worn for my video interview with Duke’s admissions department.

  “How did you . . .?”

  “Brent, one of Vasilije’s frat brothers, is dating your roommate.” Luka laid the dress out on the chair, retrieved the water bottle, and sauntered toward me. “She was helpful getting things from your room, but she doesn’t know anything about your schedule.” He sat beside me on the bed. “Because, as I mentioned, she’s dumber than a box of fucking rocks. Why the hell are you friends with her?”

  So many questions stormed into my mind, it was difficult to find an answer. “I’m not, really. You went through my things?”

  He placed the pads of his fingertips on my collarbone and began to skate them down my bare skin where the shirt wasn’t closed. “Yes. I had them brought here.”

  The goosebumps he gave me could have been from his words and not just his touch. What was he talking about? “What things?”

  His expression was casual. “All of them. I had your dorm room packed up and moved the boxes into another guest room.”

  “What?” The invasion of privacy was overwhelming.

  Luka blinked slowly and his expression was guarded. “I told you, this is your home now. When you’ve earned it, you can have your things back.”

  My mouth hung open, and as my fury built into a crescendo, his gaze hardened.

  “Or you can throw a fit about it and I’ll take my shirt back.”

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to take in a calming breath. I was smarter than this. I wouldn’t succumb to an emotional reaction, not if I wanted to outplay him. When my eyes fluttered open, I found him scrutinizing me.

  “Will you please,” I said, each word deliberate, “untie me now?”

  He paused. “Only if you let me tie you up again right after.”

  “After?” Dread coated my voice.

  He waved a hand toward the bathroom. “I assume you need to use the restroom.”

  Luka was right, I did, but . . . “I thought you said I only needed to be tied up so you could get me clothes, which you did.” He’d gotten all of my clothes.

  “Do you want to use the bathroom or not?”

  I exhaled loudly. “I do.”

  “Okay.” He grabbed my wrist and began to undo the knots. “You’ll come right back to the bed when you’re done, and drink this.”

  He ma
de me leave the door open as well, which was infuriating. After I finished, I rolled my aching shoulders and returned to him with trepidation. Our time apart had recharged Luka, and he appeared ready to go after me again at full force.

  It would be so much harder the second time to lie down on the bed, and as I lingered in the doorway, I considered not doing it. He must have sensed it.

  “Come here,” he commanded.

  I sat cautiously beside him on the side of the bed, leaving distance between us. He unscrewed the bottle, passed it to me, and I gulped it down until it was gone, taking my time. Stalling, really, but I couldn’t put it off forever. I held the dress shirt closed as I willed my body to lie down on the bed, fidgeting to maximize coverage. Luka took one of my wrists in his hands, and rubbed the rope marks with his thumbs, mesmerized. A darkness flickered in his eyes.

  He enjoyed seeing these marks of his control on my skin.

  I shuddered.

  He spoke as he wound the rope once again around my wrists, binding me to the bed. “Your roommate’s an idiot, but she knows things about you I don’t.”

  Normally, that would make sense. I lived with her, after all. But instead I wondered how it could be possible. Avery paid no attention to anyone but herself.

  His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “You’re going to Duke after you graduate?”

  I opened my mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. Had Avery told him that? The realization came quickly. No, Avery probably hadn’t. If he’d packed up my dorm room as he said, he’d found my acceptance package in the top drawer of my desk.

  “I . . . haven’t decided yet.” Duke was expensive. Hell, all of the schools were. I’d be up to my eyeballs in student loans until I was forty.

  “Why not?” His tone was almost angry. “That’s a great school.”

  “I have others I’m waiting to hear from.” I tried to organize my thoughts. Why were we talking about this? The restraint on me made me feel off-balance and knocked my filter askew. “I don’t know if I can afford it.”